#things have been so rough that i even had to detach myself from my family for weeks

[ladyyatexel]

I have a doll here that I'm pondering

My mom found her in a box of other old related goodies at an auction or something and I'm trying to decide what to do with her.

She is a vintage Bubblecut Barbie, and man, I have just never been able to see bubblecut as anything but grandma.

However, one of the things that really interests me is different perceptions of hairstyles and looks through different eras, especially after all of the family photo history I inherited. At some point, this was trendy as hell and definitely would have been on teenagers, and it would be cool to be able to see it that way. I think illustrations of the time come really close to capturing the vibe.

I'm also interested in finding a way to make the vintage Barbie sculpt look more like the really lively and energetic illustrations they made of her, rather than bored and aloof. I have looked at a lot of alternate painting jobs on this face and have done a couple sketches over faces myself digitally that I think I have a good idea of what I need to do.

She has a loose arm and dirt in tiny cracks all over her legs that I can only describe as crazing on an oil painting. A lot of it has washed away with an initial visit from dish soap and a toothbrush, so she doesn't feel gross to touch anymore, but it's still very in there. The inner ring in her neck is also mostly completely detached meaning she would probably transfer onto a new body fairly well...

I cannot decide if her being kind of in a rough shape makes her the ideal candidate for me to try to enjoy how this hair and sculpt combo looks or if I would be better off just making her into something new entirely and waiting for a reproduction bubble cut to show up for a very low to normal amount of money. I think I might have some stray bubble cut heads in my stash even, but that this one was attached to a body and that my mom had spent a lot of time looking at it anticipating that I would bring it back from the brink kind of makes me want to do something with it in particular.

Reproduction dolls also historically have so much more hair than their vintage counterparts so I wonder if I would be somehow doing it wrong hahaha.

A pro to doing this kind of experimenting on a reproduction doll also means that the vinyl is a lot more stable and less likely to turn into like a surprise sticky mess like the other vintage bubble cut that I transformed. She still looks good but she's got the sticky face now and it is a Bummer.

Because she's missing some hair while the rest of it looks nice and even in original curl, I would have to find a way to root and style fractions of a bubble cut? Not to mention trying to match hair color and fiber.

She's also missing a finger but I do love the coral color nail polish. I keep thinking it would be fun to match the color for her lip paint.

Maybe the solution is like a hybrid of my normal approaches where I just fill in all of the chopped off hair plugs with some funky color I like and then do some traditional matching coral on her lips and most of the experimenting on her eyes, which was where I was intending to do most of that anyway.

It's possible I just needed to talk out loud and type all of this to come to some kind of conclusion.

Here is a picture of Onyx playing hard and causing a mess for your trouble.

#horrible doll blogging #onyx and lyx

[babyjakes]

forever and a day | 28. he's my friend.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

← last chapter | series masterlist | next chapter →

summary | a story in which america’s favorite captain gives a new life and family to a five-year-old girl who has suffered well beyond her years at the hands of hydra.

characters | dad!steve rogers, girl/willa rogers (original character)

warnings | AU similar enough to OU to include spoilers to many Marvel movies (Age of Ultron and beyond). action and fight scenes with violence and killing. injuries/mild gore. mature themes related to and semi-graphic depictions of child abuse/neglect, past CSA and CSM, and their aftermath (emaciation, wounds, scarring, etc). medical abuse and experimentation. ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). medical treatment of CSM and other aftermath of abuse.trauma-informed therapeutic treatment of ECT. somewhat evil!Tony Stark (eventually).

[Steve]

“…he said his name was Bucky.”

Ever since Willa spoke those words yesterday, I’ve been unable to shake them from my mind. In the moment, I decided not to tell the little girl that I knew the only other person in the world she’s ever loved, that he was my best friend, and that I knew exactly why he turned evil. Even though my first instinct was to defend Buck and tell her that he didn’t choose to betray her, something within myself stopped me. It had already been such an eventful day for her, for all of us. Starting on about Bucky felt like a whole new can of worms that I didn’t think I could open in that moment. Bruce had sent me a look of surprise in regards to my silence. Thankfully, though, he didn’t push anything further than that.

Glancing at the clock, I see that it’s only a few minutes past 7:00am. Sitting on the edge of my bed as the warmth of the rising sun falls on my back through the window behind me, I pick up my cellphone from my nightstand, unlocking it with my thumb and swiping it open. I pull up my contacts list, and he’s the very first name, right at the top.

Bucky.

Before I can change my mind, I’ve tapped his number, hitting the call button. As I raise the phone gently to the side of my face, it only rings once before he answers, his voice sounding rough. “Steve?”

“Hey Buck,” I say softly, not knowing how to start the conversation. “Sorry if I woke you.”

“It’s alright. I don’t do much sleeping anymore,” he admits, his soft smile audile through his voice.

“Yeah, I guess I don’t either,” I chuckle lightly. “How’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know. I’ve been… managing.” We both know there’s so much more underneath that statement, but I don’t want to push him. When he needs to talk, he comes to me. When he wants to say more, he knows he can. In the meantime, I know that prying just feels overbearing to him. So I take his answer of ‘managing.’ Even though I know it’s probably the whole story.

“That’s good, I’m glad,” I tell him, trying to look past his avoidance. “Hey, listen. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something. I’m sorry we haven’t talked in the past few weeks. Things have just been really- I don’t know… crazy.”

“Don’t worry about it; I’m sure being an Avenger doesn’t leave much room in your schedule for phone dates,” the man laughs it off. “What’s been going on?”

“Well- god. I don’t even know where to start,” I groan as I run a hand over my face. “Our last big mission was to Seoul. We raided another Hydra base, took down a lot of big guys.” Bucky hums in approval at this. “We also rescued several prisoners. The usual; people Hydra had used to-… people they had trained.” I know that Bucky can handle the words I’m saying to him; I’ve said them to him many times before. It just always feels hard to talk about these things with him, knowing what he went through. “And we… we found one prisoner in particular. A little girl. And she was… in really bad shape.” Bucky is quiet, patiently waiting as I try to pull myself together. “We were able to find out a lot about her on the ship. She’s five, had lived with Hydra her whole life. She has a special set of healing powers they were particularly interested in.”

“Steve,” Bucky interrupts quietly, signaling that the recognition must have hit him sooner than I thought it might. “Oh my god. Are you… are you talking about the girl?”

“We call her Willa now,” I breathe, smiling through the tears that’ve built up in my eyes. “We figured it was only right to give her a name. She’s been with us ever since we rescued her weeks ago. As soon as I found her, I- I knew she belonged with us. With me. I took over guardianship, Buck,” I reveal, relieved to finally be getting this all off of my chest.

“Willa,” he repeats the name after me, the love and emotion audible in his voice. “You found her; I can’t believe it. I thought I’d never see her again,” he can be heard shaking his head through the phone. “She’s one of the only memories I have of being with Hydra but still being myself. I used to sneak in and bandage her up whenever I could. Then one day, I- I don’t know. The Winter Soldier took over for good… I never saw her again.” Bucky sighs, the feelings all of this is bringing for the both of us lingering heavily in the silent air. “That little girl… I can’t believe it,” he repeats himself. “I still dream of her all the time. Those big green eyes; I could never forget them.”

“She loved you, Buck,” I whisper, a lump forming in my throat.

“Loved me?” he asks incredulously. “Why do you think that?”

“She told me,” I tell him. “But when the Winter Soldier came, things changed. Do you remember what happened with her?”

“No,” he admits coldly. “I think that’s one of the few memories that’s too painful for my brain to let me access. Can I- Steve, can I see her? I want to see her. I know she’s probably scared of me; I-I can’t imagine what she must’ve thought when suddenly I turned into a monster, but I have to see her. Please, Steve. Now that she’s safe, now that you’re taking care of her. It’s like… it’s like it’s fate.”

“She’s- Bucky,” I try, “she’s terrified of you.” At my painful words, I can almost hear my friend’s heart breaking straight down the middle. Bucky takes a deep breath, not saying anything for a moment.

“Then I have to fix it,” are his words after a long pause, his voice much smaller now. I sigh, unsure of what to do or say. I know that Willa’s experience with the Winter Soldier was undoubtedly traumatic. She hasn’t explained what exactly went down, but I know enough about Bucky’s darker persona to conclude that whatever took place must’ve scared the life out of her. But at the same time, I come back to the same thought that always prevails when thinking about what happened to my friend: it wasn’t his fault. He deserves redemption in every area of his life; I truly believe that. I always will. And if he wants to amend things with Willa, I don’t feel it would be right to stop him from doing so. Especially given how passionate he seems about this.

“Okay Buck,” I give in. “You can come see her. I need to talk to her first, but how about you stop by later today? Not much is going on at the tower.”

“Thank you, Steve. Thank you,” the man replies, his relief evident in his voice. “I’ll see you later, okay? Thank you,” he says again.

“Sure thing, pal,” I respond, and the line goes dead. Taking a deep breath, I do my best to brace myself for the day. Hopefully I haven’t gotten myself into anything too deep to dig back out of.

“Good morning, sunshine,” I greet Willa as I walk into the kitchen, spotting her sat at the table with a yellow sippy-cup of what appears to be juice in front of her.

“Sun-shine,” she repeats, causing me to smile at her warmly. Peter must’ve helped her get ready today; I can tell due to her hair being brushed out nicely, something that he’s started to do for her, which everyone’s found to be nothing short of adorable. Every morning, the pair have their little routine, the cheerful boy always so eager to help his friend in any way he can, even if it means turning into her own personal stylist.

“Hey, we’re matching,” I point out, nodding to the child’s white plaid flannel before motioning to my own blue one. Willa grins as I make my way over to her, sitting down in the chair to her left.

“Matching,” she echoes, pointing to her shirt, then mine.

“Maybe we’ll have to take a picture after breakfast.” The little girl picks up her cup and takes a sip, nodding. “How are you feeling?” I ask gently.

“Tired,” she replies simply.

“Yeah? You, Peter, and Thor were up a little late last night, huh?” I ask teasingly. After everything went down following the meeting, Peter decided he and Willa should have a movie night. Somehow, Thor joined in; I must admit, I was rather impressed with how brave the Willa was to hang out with the god. He was intent on watching horror movies, but Peter and I convinced him that something more age-appropriate needed to be chosen, so after much deliberation, they all settled on Disney movies.

“Mo-a-na,” Willa sounds out happily in response. “Willa liked it!”

“I’m glad, sweetie,” I tell her with a smile, “I’m sure you did.” Then, a thought pops into my head. Bruce and I have talked about it a few times, but I’ve never followed up with Willa until now about it. “Hey doll?” I ask. “You know how you just said 'Willa liked it’?” The girl nods. “How come you talk about yourself using your name? Why not use the words 'I,’ or 'me’?”

The child thinks for a few moments, appearing to be formulating an answer to the question carefully. “Willa was… Girl, before,” she tells me. I nod, not exactly seeing where this is going. “They called her that. Didn’t want her to have a name. D-didn’t…” She thinks harder, unable to find the correct words to say.

Turning a bit more to face the sweet girl, I reach out, rubbing up and down along her arm soothingly. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” I encourage. “I think I see what you’re saying. They called you the girl because they didn’t want you to have a name, like an identity?”

“I-den-ti-ty,” she ponders; then, she nods. “Not a person,” she continues. “Just… powers. Girl didn’t matter.” I grow saddened as she says this, now fairly certain I know what she’s trying to convey.

“So, you didn’t talk about yourself like a person because they didn’t want you to?” The girl nods again. “Well, you never have to think that way again, doll. You are a person, with a name and everything; no one here will get you in trouble for talking like one,” I point out. “So, you could use those words if you wanted to.”

“Is… am… a-allowed to?” Willa asks, struggling between the two points of view.

“Of course you are,” I smile kindly, making sure to look her in the eyes so she knows I mean it.

The child nods, blinking several times and taking a deep breath in as she appears to be preparing to say something. “I-I-” her voice falters and she flinches, a moment of fear striking her. Soon, though, it passes, and she bravely opens her mouth again, stuttering, “-I-I-… I’m Willa.”

“That’s right; way to go, sweetheart,” I cheer, wrapping my arms around the little girl and lifting her up onto my lap. She snuggles into me close as I stroke up and down her back, overcome with pride.

“I-I’m Willa. That’s Steve,” she says a bit more confidently, poking my chest.

“You know it, kiddo,” I affirm, giving her a little squeeze.

“I-I love Steve,” she mumbles, her voice suddenly so soft I have to lean down a bit to hear it. Her words melt my heart, causing me to bend and plant a kiss on the top of her head.

“I love you too, doll. I’m so proud of you.”

“P'oud,” she repeats, her voice cracking a little as she begins to smile. “P-p'oud of me.”

“I sure am,” I grin, opening my mouth to say more, but before I can go any further, the elevator dings and Tony Stark’s loud voice can be heard as the doors slide open. Turning over, I look to see that he’s with a person- or, wait. Is that a person? My eyes widen in shock.

“Bruce isn’t gonna believe this. I mean, I can’t really believe this, still. And you’re like- right in front of me,” Tony enthuses to the… thing. It looks like a person. Its body is shaped like a person. Similar height to Tony, similar build, too. It’s wearing clothes. But… its skin is red. And… there’s a glowing yellow spot on its forehead.

“Well, I can assure you, I am real, sir,” the form responds, and the minute I hear the familiar voice of Jarvis, everything comes together. At least… kind of.

“Hey you two,” Tony greets Willa and I, a hint of uneasiness still in his tone from the events of yesterday. “I’d like you to meet someone. This,” he motions, “is Vision. Well, it’s really Jarvis. But… now Jarvis has a body. And… is kind of an entirely new person. As in… he’s literally a person. So, yeah. Decided a new name would do nicely,” he rambles. The being - or, Vision, - greets us with a nod.

“Captain. Willa. It’s nice to… meet you,” the strange creature says. “My consciousness has been transferred to a physical form through the work of Mr. Stark, along with the help of Dr. Helen Cho.”

“This is weird,” I blurt.

“Yeah… I’m hoping the weirdness will go away with time. Have you seen Bruce?” Tony asks, waving off my comment.

“I think he went out somewhere,” I respond, still eyeing the red man stood beside the scientist.

“Alright. Hey Vis, let’s go scare the shit out of Peter,” Tony muses.

“I’m not sure if that’s the wisest idea, sir. Mr. Parker is currently asleep,” Vision warns.

“Oh good, even better,” Tony cheers, and before anyone can say anything more, they’ve disappeared down the hallway.

Sighing, I turn my attention back to the little girl down in my lap, who’s now staring off in the direction in which the two men disappeared. “Vision,” she says aloud incredulously.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I agree with her. “Tony’s talked before about creating human forms for his AI’s, but I never thought-… though, I guess that was my mistake. You can never write anything off if Tony’s involved,” I admit.

“It’s… a guy?” the child asks innocently.

“Well, not exactly,” I chuckle, unsure of how I’m gonna explain this one. “It’s a… computer Tony made. It just looks like a human.”

Willa’s eyebrows furrow in concern, but she says nothing more about it, seeming just as perplexed as I am.

“Hey sweetie?” I ask, shifting slightly in the chair uneasily. Willa looks up at me, her green eyes locking with mine. “I need to tell you something, okay?” The girl nods, a flash of hesitancy appearing on her face, but soon dissolving. “Remember yesterday when we talked downstairs with Bruce, and you told us you used to love someone named Bucky?” Willa nods again, wariness growing in her eyes. “Well, sweetheart… I’ve known Bucky for a really long time, as well. We actually grew up together, way back before I went in the ice. And I-… I loved him, too, honey. I still love him, very much. He’s my friend.” At this, I can feel Willa’s whole body beginning to tense, almost as if she can sense what I’m about to tell her.

“Bucky had a really bad experience with Hydra, just like you. They hurt him a lot, and he didn’t ever want to hurt you. It’s a long story, and I can tell you all about it if you’re interested, but what I’m trying to say is… I talked with him this morning. He remembered you, and he asked if he could see you again. He’s coming over later today, doll. He just wants to make things right with you.”

At this, Willa’s face drops, and tears begin trailing down her cheeks so quickly that it catches me by surprise. My heart breaks as violent sobs start flashing through her body, the poor thing beginning to plead, “Please, please- don’t bring him here to hurt me.”

← last chapter | series masterlist | next chapter →

#faad #faad: he's my friend #eun's writing #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers series #steve rogers au #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #hurt/comfort #steve rogers x child!oc #dad!steve rogers #the avengers #avengers fanfiction #mcu #mcu fanfiction #captain america #captain america fanfiction

[beware-thecrow]

I feel sorry for my brother. As a child, he was the tender type, candy sweet and joyful baby, loved rotten by mom and dad. Now he's an adult, disappointed that I'm not like her. Angry that my father can't love him like she would. So he remains a man child, searching for her in every woman, trying to bring back childhood by acting like one. He told me I don't love him enough, that I don't care. I don't hug him, nor I ask him where he is or how he feels. He feels alone at home even when I'm here. I'm always angry, I'm always pissed. I'm rough. I feel sorry for him because I can't help it, it is not in my nature. He doesn't understand that I got the ugly part of the deal. That mom dying shaped me into this. I'm stern and detached, calloused by loneliness. I was never a soft child, and I've grown into a very insensitive woman. But I took care of him the best I could. I don't love many people, but I've loved him the most. I'm sorry for him because now I understand he will never see it. He'll never think of all the things I did to protect him when it happened, that I tried what I thought it was vital. That It costed me a lot, and that he didn't make it any easier for me, but I did it because I wanted him to have a comfortable future, a nice life. A good life. Well-loved. Deserving. Respectable. He threw it all away in a temper tantrum, in a violent fit. Ten years of his anger have worn me down. Patience run thin. Ten years of him being horribly inconsiderate. Of him fighting every single request for help to then get away unscathed with everything he wants. Ten years of him pulling me down, saying hurtful shit. Ugly shit. Selfish shit. Would I be kinder if he had been kinder to me? Probably, but being my parent's precious boy and sixteen, he was expected to be coddled. And so he made my grief even more miserable by being unhelpful, making me work harder, letting me know I was alone. Like he was the only one feeling like shit. Like he was the only motherless teenager. I feel sorry for him, because he doesn't remember that part, and he never will. He'll never acknowledge that he was loved. That he's been spoiled by his father, that he was cared and guided by his sister. That I tried to make him better, that I tried to give him options, that I tried to make him feel safe, that I tried to share with him all the good, and took to myself all the bad; while my dad gave him everything he could wish for and asked for nothing in return. Doomed to feel unloved, blind to everything anyone ever did for him. Ungrateful, unruly, unhelpful. Spoiled. Difficult. Brat. I feel sorry for him because he will never grow out of it. He'll never stop feeling like that, because to stop he'll have to acknowledge how hard he makes it for everyone else. I'm sorry because he keeps confusing flattery with love. Because he rather be kind to strangers than to fix his attitude towards his own family. That he keep tripping over and over again on the same mindless worshiping from people he doesn't even respect instead of humbling himself and listen to people who truly care for him and have his best interest at heart. I feel sorry for him because that's a sad thing to be, a really awful fucking flaw.

[generoustriumphsheep]

2/20

Sometimes I feel trapped in my own house. Sometimes I feel suffocated. Not to say it isn't a happy home, I just get trapped in these emotionally pressured cycles from my parents. Or mainly my dad. I think I've always known how he was, but I can't stay mad or resentful towards him. I always try to go out of my way to keep things on the good side, to keep us all coasting along. The strategic thinking on my part can be so draining. And maybe it's because of my age and still living at home. Yet then again, I feel like my dad and I barely got to this sweet stage of our relationship 3 years ago. It was always a rocky situation between us which I think really effected me more than I realized. It was always our normal. Now when I think about it, it kind of makes me sad. I think were both to blame, but I think we are just so similar. A little too similar. Sometimes I remind myself of him more than I ever thought I would. Not that it's a bad thing. It's hard to expect how we turn out to be as adults. It's still weird to even consider myself a full adult. 24 is an adult. I think it maybe a little weird for me to still live at home at this age. Sometimes I can't wait to move out, but I feel like I have to stay here in some way like its my family duty to emotionally help out of keep things smooth. Maybe it's some pressure I just came up with for myself. It's kind of a guilty and scary feeling. I think I'm scared of what will happen to my parents when I'm not here. And then I think how sad I'll be to fully detach myself from this chapter and sense of home that I've lived in my whole life. That sounds awful. It hurts my heart just thinking about it. What am I supposed to do? It's not like I could just move out now, or like I am ready. That scares me too. Having enough money, paying bills, having a social life and feeling financially safe...sounds almost impossible. That's why I am saving all my money now while I can. It's been tempting, but not impossible. My goal is 20k by the end of this year and I am really pushing to surpass that number. Maybe I just get stuck in this over thinking phase. This month has been rough at home. My parents had a rough patch, which makes my life emotionally hard. It makes me not want to come home sometimes. Sometimes I feel stuck in the middle. Stuck in this sympathetic cycle of misery between the both of them. Now the rough patch turned into my dad not being his best self where he is in a good mood. I miss that version of him. We all had one good night of dinner and home life last Wednesday. I wasn't sure I'd feel that happiness again. I had missed it so much. Nothing makes me happier than when we can all laugh together with no tension. I think that's when I feel my best. And maybe it's not healthy to base my home happiness not those times, but I can't help it. I will work on that moving on, even if it means I have to be a little selfish for my own happiness. Now I know were embarking on a new chapter of unknown since my dad isn't working now. He'll be looking for a job and I really hope things get better for him and us. I know we will be okay. I just want the 3 of us to be happy.

I want to feel more free in my own home and not feel the pressures that I have created for myself. I want us to have more laughs and just be more easy going over all.

[moon-cycling]

?-?

I feel so tired, so unmotivated to do my job, so unsure of myself, so sad about all of these feelings. I have been trying to track my mood in regard to my cycle, because most bleeders know that there are times out of the month where your perspective totally shifts and it feels like you can’t regulate stress in the same way. Aside from the ups and downs of hormones, I have noticed that I have a general unhappiness with the work path I am on right now because it feels like it is leading nowhere. The babies I watch keep growing and the families will move on from my care easily and probably short noticed, as I am not a part of their family even though I am so connected with their children. 

I started this journey wanting to be a birth doula, and as I have learned along the way what I can actually handle, I am starting to question what I even can take on. I had a really intense over 40hrs a week job that demanded your life force. Although it was rewarding, I think I realized I could never work that many consistent hours a week at any other job because no 9-5 was going to be able to take care of me as much as that job did. So I started down the path of various side jobs and infant care, as I told myself I was continuing to learn and network. I do feel like I learned so much over the last few years but now I finally found families I like and have realized again how impermanent it all is! 

How much do I need to work to live? With my rent happily being $333 and living in a small city, truthfully not very much. Everyone around me is getting great paying jobs that they aren’t necessarily super passionate about. I cannot bring myself to do a job that does not feel like it is contributing positively to the world, or I feel like my energy is being sucked out of me for evil. I have a deep fear of being a part of an evil system and causing harm along the way - which is a very realistic fear in the helping profession.

As I reflect as well on my religious background and how that has influenced my work, I really used to believe that helping people is useful no matter what the avenue is. And now I think that whatever my helping path is, it needs to come from a place of genuine passion, interest, and excitement. It needs to be my specific path that FEELS good when I am doing it, even when it is hard. Logically, I do feel like I am doing a good thing by helping to raise a child in this moment. But, it feels draining and daunting a lot of the time, having hours of the day where you have no identity of your own. I don’t want to feel that way. I am getting closer to where I need to be but this is a really rough patch of emotion and purpose.

Good thing I have therapy tomorrow! Except we talked about this last time and it’s not like I have a lot of updates in this area of my life except some tiny tangible progress. I need to be detached and just act. My dad said that was how he found all of his success. He had no plan! I have never been one to have a plan either, but I do have a purpose and need to take more time to feel deeply connected to it. 

[eaifreiheit]

- via Liam’s Instagram post.

Amazon Prime just released the first episode (Mangrove) of Small Axe today, which was so nerve-wrecking and mind-boggling that I just want to throw my beat old laptop out of the window, spill some oil and burn it, then bury it underneath a huge rock. Just imagine how the rest of the anthology is going to be. 

Be sure to watch all five of them, I know I will! 

P.S. Liam is in Red, White & Blue. Alongside John Boyega the absolute sweetheart! 29th November, set the date!

#small axe #letitia wright #john boyega #liam garrigan #red white and blue #i know i haven't been active on tumblr lately #things have been so rough that i even had to detach myself from my family for weeks

[buckyownsmylife]

I write sins not tragedies - Andy Barber smut

The one where you’re Andy’s sugar baby and he loves seeing you in lingerie

Warnings: rough sex, daddy kink, sugar daddy relationship, infidelity (reader is the other woman), throatfucking, curses, some degrading name-calling in a very loving way

A/N: Day 5 of kinktober and I can’t believe I’m still keeping up with this! Prompts for today were daddy kink and lingerie!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I didn’t even notice him entering the apartment, that’s how focused on my study session I was. But then two strong arms wrapped themselves around my torso and before I could even consider tensing up from the surprise, his cologne calmed my brain down and I was automatically melting against him.

“Hi, daddy.” I turned my head to the side to meet his eyes, but no such luck. He had buried his face against the crook of my neck, and his delicious beard was tickling me, making me thrash around in his arms.

“Hi, princess. I thought you’d missed me,” he mumbled against my skin, making me giggle. For someone who was constantly accusing me of being dramatic, he could be so much worser than me sometimes. Especially when he had a hard day in the office or in his family life.

“You know I always do. Did you have a rough day?” At that, he finally released me, allowing me to turn around on the bed so I could look him in the eye, taking notice of the dark patches underneath them. “Oh, Andy. I wish you’d take better care of yourself.”

My words brought a little smile to his face, and his eyes shined with a particular light as he looked at me, his hands cradling my cheeks. “You’re the only one who can take care of me properly.”

I tried not to show how he made me feel warm inside with just that one sentence, because I was honestly very worried about him, so I simply rolled my eyes. “Then I guess you have to move in, so I can take care of you 24/7, huh?”

It was just a teasing remark, I honestly didn’t have any second intentions with my words. I knew what I was getting into when Andy approached me with the proposition to become his sugar baby. I knew he was married and had a kid not that much younger than me and I never deluded myself into believing he’d simply abandon everything for me.

But when things got bad and I couldn’t be there for him when he actually needed me, that was the only time I second-guessed this entire arrangement. Because the truth was, I had fallen for him, hard. And it was difficult to remember he wasn’t mine to take care of most of the time. 

“Please, ignore what I said. I didn’t mean it like that. Come here,” I begged, wrapping my hands around his suit’s lapels and pulling his weight down on the bed, so he’d be on top of me. Even frozen from the shock provoked by my words, he still easily followed, allowing me to cradle his face and kiss him all over until he was comfortable enough to talk again.

“Y/N…” He suddenly started, trying to push himself away from me, his voice in such a serious tone that I immediately knew what he was going to say, but I didn’t need to hear it. So I followed his movements, sitting up on the bed too, before covering his mouth with one of my hands, climbing on his lap.

“Please, Andy, don’t. Really. All I meant was… It doesn’t matter, you just don’t need to worry about it. I love what we have. I’m not asking for more. Promise.” He didn’t look like he trusted me that much, but then again, it could also be a bit of his own guilt as he stared me down with those expressive brown eyes of his. But I wouldn’t let him get dragged into that useless whirlwind, at least that I could do for him.

“Here, let me take your mind off of it. Wanna see something nice?” He still looked wary as he watched me get out of bed until I was standing in front of him, but after a few minutes and a sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair and nodded.

“If it comes from you, always.” The tiny smile he gave me had my heart doing backflips in my chest, and I returned it with a much bigger one, hoping to show him that I really was fine. And then I started to push down my sweatpants, wiggling out of them before taking off my sweater too, until I was left with only my latest purchase. 

The sound of Andy’s breath hitching was everything I needed to know I was in the right direction. The piece I was wearing was yellow with white little daisies that covered the places there were supposed to be lace or any sort of fabric. It was ridiculously expensive for something with so little, but the way Andy was looking at me made it seem worthy.

He always did have a thing for seeing me in lingerie. Well, I didn’t know if it was me, specifically, just that it was the first thing he started to gift me just as soon as he covered all the essentials I needed to live.

For a long time, they were all that I had except for his impromptu gifts that always consisted of new lingerie pieces and some other frivolous thing, like a designer bag or some jewels, and I always accepted it with gratitude but insisted that he didn’t have to bother. I liked him and all I needed was for his help with the bills, but still, he wouldn’t have it.

He’d say that spoiling me was the best part of his week and that me accepting what he got me was one of the things I needed to do for him in return, so really, what could I do? The problematic part was when he started to include in the allowance money that he gave me to buy groceries a few hundred dollars supposed to be destined for me to buy some new pieces myself. 

He wanted to be surprised, he said. As much as he loved to pick out some pieces for me and imagine me in them before actually getting to see them against my skin, he also wanted to have me amaze him once in a while. And this was the first time I finally got the courage to do so.

“Babygirl, you look so…” Immediately jumping back into the mindset that I wanted him to be in, I silently congratulated myself not only on being able to distract him but also for my choice in underwear. “Delicious,” was the word he settled in, the hand that was holding mine as I twirled around for him to get a full-view suddenly disappearing as he stood upright in front of me, towering over my scantily-clad body with his full height while still wearing his suit. 

The way he was looking at me had me shivering under his gaze, and he smirked when he noticed, just before dropping to his knees and grabbing one of my legs to put it over his shoulder. “In more ways than one…”

And then his tongue was right over my pussy, a single finger from the hand that wasn’t helping me stay up curled against my underwear to allow him to move freely. He hummed at my taste, making my knees instantly buckled. “How the fuck are you so delicious, huh, babygirl?” 

Before I could even consider answering, he sucked on my clit, making me release a strangled gasp as I tried to keep myself up, a hand on his hair and the other on his shoulder. He knew how hard it was for me to do anything when his face was buried against me, knew how talented he was with that tongue, but still, he didn’t have any pity for me. 

“Answer daddy,” he admonished, slapping the back of one of my thighs, almost making me fall to my knees. “C’mon, sweet girl. You know how much I hate when you leave me unanswered.”

Taking a deep breath to try to gather my thoughts, it was hard for me to even remember what it was that he’d asked me in the first place. Finally, after another slap, this one over my ass, which he took the opportunity to grab after, I managed to spill out an “I-I don’t know, daddy.”

It wasn’t the answer Andy wanted, that much I knew, so it didn’t surprise me too much when he detached myself from my pussy after one last lick, before getting up to his full height, his hands immediately going to his belt.

“You know that’s not good enough, baby. Get on your knees for me.” I bit on my lower lip to stop a smile from appearing on my face, for the sake of our game. This was supposed to be a punishment, I knew that. I couldn’t very well just show him how eager I was to have his taste on my tongue again.

But the smirk he sported as he slapped his cock against my cheek let me know he was well aware of the fact. The number of times I’d been called his cockslut, after all, couldn’t very well be forgotten by the very man who had trained me to take him like a pro.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re thinking, sweetheart,” he warned, making me bite the inside of my cheek to stop the giggles that I could feel rising through my chest. “But if you let daddy fuck your throat the way he likes, he just might give you what you want. Open up,” he orders and I, ever dutifully and simply his, do exactly as he says, my tongue sticking out to welcome his weight on my mouth.

“Shit, baby, I always forget how incredible you feel,” he comments mindlessly, and despite knowing it was nothing less than a compliment, it hurts my chest for a moment the possibility of him going home and simply pretending that I don’t exist, ignoring how great I can make him feel.

Blinking away the tears that were already rising under my eyelids, I couldn’t really attribute them to the lack of oxygen yet, but I was hoping the excuse would fit if one managed to escape. So I blindly reached out for Andy’s ass and pulled him to me, effectively choking myself on his dick.

“Jesus fucking CHRIST, what has gotten into you today?” He asked as he pulled me back from his cock by my hair, and I coughed a bit as I gathered my breath, before shaking my head as well as I could while he kept his grip on me.

“Nothing, daddy. I just really want to pleasure you.” He looked suspicious again, but now wasn’t the time to inquire about it. Not when his cock was throbbing, the red tip leaking precum drops that you were too eager to lap up. “Fuck, okay. But stay put, alright, princess? Let daddy decide the pace.”

Your mouth-watering at the sight of him helped the blowjob immediately become sloppy, just like he liked. “Fuckkkk. Just like that, baby girl. Now, relax your throat, okay?” I did as he said, allowing him to dip my head back as I reminded myself to breathe through my nose before he immediately started to fuck his cock on my throat, provoking my gag reflex to act up and the tears to start again.

“Hold it, baby. We both know you can. Don’t you like it when daddy’s cock is nested inside your pretty throat? When you can’t breathe and it’s all because of me?” His hand gripped my neck, aiding the asphyxiation as he felt himself inside of me. “Oh, yeah. See? This is why daddy loves coming to see you. Only you can treat him so. fucking. well.”

After a particularly hard thrust that left me coughing out my lungs, he pulled me to my feet by my hair before throwing me on the bed, face down. “And since you’ve been such a good little girl for daddy, he’ll give you what you want.”

I could feel my wetness dripping down my thighs as I heard him open the condom packet. Just the sound of the foil was enough to make me whimper. Behind me, I could hear Andy chuckle at my eagerness.

“Such a good little princess for me. So crazy for my cock, huh?” The blunt head of his length rubbing against my throbbing clit was exactly enough to get me even needier for him. I sucked in a breath as he teased me for a little while, rubbing himself over my opening but never actually pushing in.

Andy’s P.O.V.

“Y-yes, daddy. Only for your cock.” Fuck, she just knew exactly what to say to make me lose control. This was precisely why I needed her so much. Why I couldn’t even feel bad about what I was doing. Not when she was the only one with whom I could actually be myself.

Thrusting inside of her for the first time in a night was always the best feeling, probably akin only to walking through the gates of heaven, perhaps because that’s what she was to me: my own little piece of heaven, my angel on Earth. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” I asked, my heart overflowing with emotions I couldn’t allow myself to feel as I carefully brushed the strands of her hair away from her face, so I could hold them all in my makeshift ponytail. When she hummed in agreement, that’s when I felt comfortable enough to start thrusting in and out of her, appreciating the wet sounds of her pussy trying to keep my cock inside of her.

“Daddy… please…” She begged, her hands reaching forward to hold onto the duvet of her bed while I abided by her desires and started to fuck into her harder. She really was my other half, the only one who understood and reciprocated my needs.

“Daddy got you, little one. Just hold on tight.” Her hands practically curled into fists, I started to fully pound her against the mattress, one of my hands coming around her to hug her back to me, while I played with her clit. “Such a perfect little girl for your daddy. Now daddy needs you to cum around him, can you do that, princess? Can you be a good girl for me?”

The dirty talk always got to her, and within seconds she was trembling in my arms, gasping in need of air as her pussy milked my cock until all of my cum was safely inside the condom. 

I could still remember when we had that discussion. I obviously had wanted to fuck her raw, but that was one of the only limits she established right away. “You’re still gonna be fucking your wife, I need to be safe.”

The fact that I hadn’t felt anything when she pointed out that if I was cheating, Laurie could very well be doing the same, should have shown me just how screwed up I was. “Princess…” I started after cleaning us both with a wet towel from the bathroom. She looked up at me expectantly, obviously curious about what I had to say, but the seconds our eyes met, she already knew the subject I was going to approach.

“No, Andy. Let it go! We’ve been through this already.” Sighing, I couldn’t help but smile as I sat down by her side on the bed, as always fascinated by the fact that she could so easily read what was on my mind. 

“As incredible as you are, baby girl, I don’t think you know precisely what I got to say, and the truth is, I need you to hear this.” She shut her mouth at that, but still pouted, showing me how skeptical she was.

Chuckling softly, I held her hands in mine before caressing her cheek, trying to show her through the intensity of my gaze that my words were 100% honest. “The reason I got so shocked by what you said was that I was overcome with the desire to do just that. To move in here, with you.”

For a few seconds, no one said anything. It was just her and me, her eyes twice their usual size as she blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what I had just said. “But, Andy…” Sighing, I already knew what she was going to say, so I just squeezed the hand I was still holding, signaling that she didn’t need to say anything yet.

“I know, baby. I know.” I wrapped an arm around her shoulder, hugging her to me and giving a kiss on her forehead, hoping that she could once again understand what I wanted to say, even if I couldn’t yet put it into words. “I just wanted you to know.”

#andy barber #andy barber smut #smut #my fics #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber fan fiction #andy barber one shot #andy barber reader #andy barber one-shot #andy barber x reader #andy barber imagine #andy barber imagine fanfiction

[bill-y]

INURE

Peeta Mellark x Reader

[ We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family. ]

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part four: Click here, rooroorara shooty shooty vang vang

Part five: You're right here, silly!

Part six: Click here, war criminal of 1878!

Wattpad acc: L0calxDumbass

The moment the anthem finished, we were taken into custody. It's not as if we were cuffed or anything; a group of Peacekeepers simply marched us through the front door of the Justice Building.

Each year, at least one of the tributes tries to escape; I've never seen one successfully do so.

Once inside, they put me in a room. It's the most prosperous place I've been to. With a thick carpet in the ground and a weird couch made of fabric, I've never seen before.

It was a strange texture, almost like the weird fuzzy stuff in deer's antlers. My father called them velvet; was this the same thing? If so, that's a bit gross.

Despite this, I still caressed the couch; it was oddly comforting. Almost like you're patting a nearly hairless kitten. It switched from smooth to rough each time I ran my hands through it.

Then I remembered that we only had an hour to say goodbye to our loved ones before leaving for the Capitol. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath in. I didn't want to cry at all; the cameras were trained on me. I'm sure the Capitol would eat my tears up.

The first people who came in were my mother and my brother. Kunal let out a sob as he ran towards me, practically throwing himself onto me. I hugged him, staying silent as he buried his face into my neck, afraid that if he let go, I would disappear.

But I needed to break it one way or another. "Mother," I called, my voice detached. Her green eyes met mine, her lips quivering. I gulped down my spit, taking another deep breath in. "Do you. . . Have any idea on how you'll support yourselves. . ?" I asked.

Her eyes landed on the thick, red carpet. "Not as of now," she answered grimly, "But Katniss' mother offered me some work at the apothecary,"

My arms around my brother tightened. Maybe Gale and Katniss could bring them some of the game as well, though I wouldn't count on it. Why would they help us when they have other things to worry about? It's not as if I could teach Nal how to hunt either. The boy's frightened by his own shadow.

All he's good for right now for picking flowers as much as I love him. A sigh escaped my lips, my chest falling slowly as the reality sunk in.

"Well, you must think of something," I told her, my brows furrowing. "I'm not going to come back; I won't be able to support you and—"

"No!" she barked, "No! You will come back, Y/n." she proclaimed, her eyes shaking. She clenched her, fists, "Swear that you will."

Bitterness rose within me. "Tell that to the Capitol, mother," I said coolly. "If I die, then I—." My words were cut short by the sobbing of my brother.

He sniffled, pulling away from my now wet neck. "You'll win, won't you?" he croaked, wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his reaping clothes.

I felt my heart stop; what was I supposed to say to him? "No, Nal. I will surely die, don't count on it,"  a lump formed in my throat.

My eyes landed on my mother, who gave a stern look.  It told me to lie, if not for her sake, then for my brother's. With shaky hands, I held my brother's shoulders. "I'll make it out; then we can— gather some flowers in Victor's village, yes?" 

Nal nodded, hugging me once more. I took a deep breath before I started explaining what they should do. With mother possibly getting a job at the apothecary, perhaps they have a  chance to survive, after all. Though I'm not sure, that's such a pleasant thought with the fact that I will die. 

Soon enough, a Peacekeeper was at the door, telling them their time was up. I gave Nal a hard squeeze before pushing him off. My mother nodded at me; her strawberry blonde hair bounced as she did so. "I love you both," 

The words were stuck in my throat; I couldn't say them. Maybe it was because of my strained relationship with my mother or because I hated the fact that I had just given my brother a false sense of hope. I simply watched as they walked away, hand in hand. 

Nal's watery blue eyes looked back at me one last time, a look of sadness. He knew I was lying. I sounded unconvinced when I told him. My posture slumped; I felt horrible. Our maker is siis merely, I suppose.

The next visitor was unexpected; Peeta's father, the baker. My gut churned; I was off to kill his son soon. Why has he come to visit me? Perhaps he has come to beg me not to kill his son? Not that I could either way, Peeta was stronger than me: it was clear as day.

He handed me a small piece of parchment. It was filled with warm cookies. A delicacy. He must've visited his son; after all, why would he just me cookies? I was about to die anyway; why feed a dead man?

I let out a huge breath, "How was the squirrel?" my voice pierced through the thick silence. He shrugged, "Alright," he answered. Then another wave of silence hit us. I sniffed awkwardly, the scent of fresh bread entering my lungs. 

I couldn't think of anything to say. What was I supposed to do? ApoloApologisebe, but I never really liked apoloapologisingee no need to. If I'm sorry, then I'll show it. We sat in awkward silence before the Peacekeepers told him his time was up. He stood up, clearing his throat.

"I'll keep an eye on the little boy, make sure he's eating," He stated before leaving. I felt the pressure lift from my chest. They may not like me much, but Nal was practically an angel to them. An angel born in a family of rebels, I'm guessing, is their thoughts.

The next guest then entered. Madge. Her expression wasn't weepy nor evasive, nor did she wear that bright smile she always had when she was around me. It looked urgent. She walked straight to me, the urgency in her tone quite surprising, "They let you wear one thing from your district in the arena. One thing to remind you of home, will you wear this?" she holds out a circular gold pin that was on her dress earlier.

My brows furrowed, "Your pin?' I said. Does she really to die wearing rich-people-things? That hasn't even crossed my mind. . . 

"I'll put it on your tunic, alright?" She said, not waiting for my answer as she leaned in and fixed the bird on my chest. "Promise me you'll wear it to the arena, Y/n. Promise me," She took my hand, her thumbs rubbing the back of my own.

Compared to Peeta's, hers was cold yet soft, almost as if she was nervous, worried. But why would she? I barely talk to her; she's the one who always strikes a conversation. All I do is nod and disagree at certain times. 

She leaned closer to my face; I gave her an uncertain smile, pulling away. "Thank you, Madge," I muttered. She nodded, letting go of my hands. "Please, stay safe," her voice trembled as she rushed out of the room. I was left standing there, confused. What was that? Why did she visit me despite my rudeness earlier?

Next was Gale and Katniss. I didn't hesitate to hug both of them before pulling away with a sigh. "Hey, you'll be fine," Gale reassured, patting my shoulder. I stayed silent, only nodding. Katniss gave me a pity smile, "I'm sure it would be fairly easy to get knives, Y/n."

A sigh left my mouth, "I know— I just— Don't want to—" I stammered, making a stabbing motion with my hand. Gale gave me a pitied look, "It's just like hunting, Y/n. You're the best hunter we know," he said.

"They're not animals. They think; they're armed."  I reasoned, my voice trembling. Why did I have to feel these emotions now? Maybe reality has finally settled in, the truth that I'll never see any of these faces again. On the off chance that I do, I'm sure they'll view me differently, a cold-blooded murderer.

"What's the difference, reale said grimly. Those words echoed in my head as they went away with the Peacekeepers. What is the difference? We're all just feral dogs forced to fight or cocks pit against each other.

I took a deep breath as I got called to ride a wagon to the train station. It was a relatively short ride. We never really had the luxury of these; we always had to travel by foot.  

I silently thanked myself for not crying; there were insect-like cameras trained onto my face. Thankfully, I knew how to act, to bite my tongue. If I hadn't, I'd probably be screaming profanities. My eyes glanced onto the television screen; I look bored. Which, I surprisingly was.

It was as if my spirit left me already.

Peeta Mellark, on the other hand, had obviously been crying. However, he didn't even try to hide it, which was quite odd. Was this his strategy? To appear weak and vulnerable to assure the other tributes that he was no threat? This worked for a girl from district 7. Johanna Mason.

She seemed frightened, a cowardly fool that no one bothered about her until only a handful left. She then killed them all, with no problem whatsoever. I remember watching this game, quite shocked. She sold her act to me, but then again, maybe I'm just oblivious.

This worked for her because she looked frail, weak. Peeta applying this strategy was quite odd. Not only did he not look soft, but he was also jacked. He just looked like a big doofus. All those years having bread to eat and hauling trays made him physically capable.

Annoyance rose through me when we had to stand by the train's entrance while cameras gobbled out images up. I was sure I no longer looked bored but rather pissed. It wasn't like I was about to put on a pretty smile for them. These jester-dressed-worms should know how I feel.

Finally, we boarded, and the train began to move at once. The speed took my breath away. It was going faster than I could ever think of. The scenery around us just blurred—a mix of the neutral colour palette that made up District 12. 

We were taught about coal in school. Some basic maths and reading before it circled back to coal again. Our district was used for coal mining, even hundreds of years ago.

Then there are the weekly lectures about the history of Panem, which never fails to annoy me. It's all blather about how we owe the Capitol because of the rebellion and whatnot.

I knew they're hiding something; we couldn't have lost that easily. I always think about this whenever I'm up in the trees, daydreaming, which is why I'm always the last one to arrive at the hill.

The tribute train was much fancier than the room at the Justice building. We were given our own rooms, a dressing area and private bathroom with cold and hot running water. We've never really had hot water readily available at home; we had to boil it.

Though I can't say, I like it, with all that effort I just end up not liking the bath. I much prefer the cold, flowing current of a river.

There are drawers filled with fine clothes, and Effie Trinket told me to do anything I want, wear anything I want, everything is at my disposal. Just be ready for supper in an hour. I peel off my father’s tunic and take a cold shower. I’ve never had a shower before. It’s like being in the rain, inky much tamer. I dress in a dark green shirt and pants, trying my hair to the usual, small pa

At the last minute, I remember Madge’s little gold pin. For the first time, I get a good look at it. It’s as if someone fashioned a small golden bird and then attached a ring around it. The bird is connected to the ring only by its wingtips. I suddenly recognise it—a Mockingjay.

Funny little birds, my favourite creature in the forests, that's for sure. These were a slap to the Capitol's face. They genetically altered animals as weapons. Muttations as we call them, or Mutts for short. One particular kind was a bird they labelled Jabberjay, able to memorise and repeat whole human conversations.

Homing birds, exclusively male that were released into regions where the Capitol’s enemies were known to be hiding. After the birds gathered words, they’d fly back to centres to be recorded. It took people a while to realise what was going on in the districts, how private conversations were being transmitted. Then, of course, the rebels fed the Capitol endless lies, and the joke was on it. So the centres were shut down, and the birds were abandoned to die off in the wild.

But they didn't die; instead, they mated with the female mocking birds and produced this weird species that can replicate both bird whistles and human melodies. They've lost the ability to enunciated words but could still mimic a range of human vocal cords.

My father used to sing them a lot. I guess he passed that habit down to me. Whenever I'm not doing anything, I find myself singing to the hummingbirds, who surprisingly listen and replicate my Father's song. It was a simple melody, made of 10 notes at least.

It warmed by heart, especially at times where I miss him. I smiled, fastening the pin to my shirt, the dark green as its background.

Effie came to collect me. I followed her through a narrow, rocking corridor into a dining room. There's a table where all the dishes are highly breakable. There waiting for us was Peeta Mellark, the chair beside him empty.

"Where's Haymitch?" Asked Effie Trinket brightly.

"Last time I saw him he said he was going to take a nap," said Peeta. "Well, it’s been an exhausting day," said Effie Trinket. I think she’s relieved by Haymitch’s absence, and who can blame her?

Food came in courses. Though I barely touched the carrot soup, the chocolate cake, lamb chops nor the mashed potatoes. I wasn't going to eat this, not from the Capitol.

My jaw clenched as Effie told me to eat up, smiling brightly at me. I gave her a pained smile, slowly taking a bite of the lamb on my plate before swallowing it roughly.

A swirl of guilt formed in my stomach, was I eating really this luxurious food whilst Nal and mother struggle? I sighed, digging my nails into my palms.

Peeta looked at me oddly as he stuffed his face, he nudged my side and nodded towards the food. I simply shook my head, pushing the plate away.

Effie put her lips together at my stubbornness. She was muttering something about having no manners.

We go to another compartment to watch the recap of the reapings across Panem. They try to stagger them throughout the day so a person could conceivably watch the whole thing live, but only people in the Capitol could really do that since none of them has to attend reapings themselves.

One by one, we see the other reapings, the names called, the volunteers stepping forward or, more often, not. We examine the faces of the kids who will be in our competition. A few stand out in my mind.

A monstrous boy who lunges forward to volunteer from District 2. A fox-faced girl with sleek red hair from District 5. A boy with a crippled foot from District 10. And most hauntingly, a twelve-year-old girl from District 11. She has dark brown skin and eyes, but other than that, she’s very like Nal in size and demeanour. Only when she mounts the stage and task for volunteers, all you can hear is the wind whistling through the decrepit buildings around her. There’s no one willing to take her place.

Last of all, District twelve. It showed Nal getting called and me volunteering. The commentators weren't sure about what to say regarding the silence. I only smirked at this, crossing my legs in amusement. Just in time, Haymitch fell from the stage, earning a comical groan from the commentators.

Peeta silently took his place on the stage; we shook hands and then just cut to the anthem.

Effie Trinket is disgruntled about the state her wig was in. "Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behaviour."

Unexpectedly, Peeta laughed. "He was drunk." He said. "He's drunk every year."

"Everyday," I added, finally breaking my silence streak with a smirk. Effie makes it sound kike Haymitch just had rough manners that could easily be dealt with.

"Yes," She hissed "How odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!"

Just then, Haymitch staggers into the compartment. "I miss supper?" he slurred. Then he vomits all over the expensive carpet and falls in a mess.

"So laugh away!" said Effie Trinket. And so I did, I barked out mocking laughter as she hopped in her pointy shoes around the pool of vomit and fled the room.

Word count: 2974

Tags:

@nin3s

#hunger games x reader #hunger games #hunger games x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #peeta mellark x male reader #peeta mellark x reader #peetamellark #x male reader #gale #male x male reader

[tragedybunny]

Wise Men Say, Only Fools Rush In - Chapter 3 - Manic Monday

Katarina Du Couteau desires only one thing in life, to make her own destiny beyond her family's legacy and manipulations. To that end, she accepts a job with Noxus Holdings, working under CEO Jericho Swain. It isn't long though before she finds herself challenged in ways she never expected and making choices that will alter her life forever.

I have finally updated. This chapter is a bit shorter but I'm happy it's here. I hope my activity will be a little more regular in the future.

The alarm that dragged me from sleep was both jarring and unwelcome. Rolling over, I smacked at my phone, the whole time indulging in a fantasy about just calling in. My mind was hazy with tempting visions of curling up under the covers and staying there until the afternoon.

Did I not request your recommendation first thing Monday morning? I winced hearing that commanding voice echoing in my mind and threw the covers off.

It had been a mistake to let Garen stay as late as I had, one that I could only blame myself for. When finally I’d let go and embraced the moment, I was lost in him and everything else receded. No stress, no work, no family drama, it was just us for a beautiful moment, and that disconnect between us vanished. Finally, we could just be, and love each other with that familiar simplicity.

But the price for all that was staying up ridiculously late to finish the project for that morning. Which all lead me here, scrambling around my apartment, lost in a sleep-deprived fog, stumbling through my morning routine. By the time my mind was fully conscious, I’d managed a cup of coffee, a cold shower to try and stir some life in me, and half my morning commute. With real thoughts came the barest tinge of resentment, tickling the back of my mind. He’d known how busy I was and yet he still came barging in last night.

Sighing, I took a sip from my travel mug. It sounded too much like the kind of negative conclusions my mother always came to. It wasn’t like my own effort had been stellar lately, it made sense he felt the need to reach out. Next time though, I’d just have to stand firm on the boundaries.

Next time, the thought caused me to grimace. That was another matter entirely. Would success with today’s little project mean that the CEO would feel free to constantly dump rush assignments on me or was this another one of his little tests? Just thinking about him made my muscles tense. How was he both infuriating and captivating? The likelihood of getting an answer about my fate before it was far too late seemed pretty low. Too bad Sam had to be so hostile, she could be useful. Maybe Darius? I did technically report to him. I made a mental note to corner him later.

For the rest of the trip, I contemplated my fate, waffling between grim resolve and tentative hopefulness. As I reached the elevator I hurriedly pulled my phone from the pocket of my charcoal suit, hearing the doors close behind me. Even with all the rushing, I’d left myself with no time to stop by my office or even think about what I was about to present if I wanted to get set up before Mr. Swain arrived. Jabbing the button for the top floor, I felt any vestiges of a pleasant mood melt away. Today seemed destined for disaster.

Practically seething at how downhill it had all gone in a few hours, I burst into the small conference room the three of us had been routinely meeting in. Behind me, the door bounced back and slammed shut. “Rough morning Ms. Du Couteau?” I froze, he was early. Of course he was, Mr. Swain was exacting about everything else, why not punctuality as well. “Do sit down and try to lose the scowl. Darius will think the whole company is at risk.”

“Right.” Awkwardly I sat, powering on my laptop and avoiding glancing in his direction at all costs. Repeated exposure had done nothing to make him any less intimidating. Maybe it was the ever-detached demeanor. It was ironic that I discovered more courage against my own family than ever before and lost it all where he was concerned.

“Cinnamon?’ The bemused tone interrupted my fiddling with the laptop’s connection to the conference room screen.

“Hmm…oh…yes.” I glanced over at my mug, “it’s…” and catching his dark eyes peering at me lost all concentration. For once his expression was one of genial curiosity and not the usual serious scowl. “I add it to the grounds, makes the flavor deeper.”

“Interesting.” I desperately focused back on my screen, dying a little inside from my fumbling around and my heart inexplicably thundering against my chest. “It seems a little more cozy than what I’d expect with you.”

My laptop was finally mirrored in front of us and I could stop and breathe. He wasn’t the first to believe I was all sharp edges and hard spots, but for some reason, it mattered more with him than I would’ve expected. “I’m not a lawyer every second of the day.” I focused on opening my notes and getting my presentation running, I couldn’t look.

“Fair enough, but I can see you as someone who never loses that sharp disposition entirely.” It hit far too close to home.

My lips parted, a retort starting that would likely cost me greatly when the door swung open and Darius sauntered through it. Five minutes late and he didn’t even bother to look apologetic. “I know Jericho, I’m unprofessional and a terrible leader.” The smirk he shot my way caused a frustrated huff from beside me.

“At least you managed to make it in. Your brother on the other hand is yet again absent. It’s a wonder he remains in my employ.” The levity vanished. It wasn’t a threat, but a show of dominance, of who could determine all of our fates. Darius had been too free with his attitude and Mr. Swain had reminded him where we all stood.

“You’re an asshole.” Darius dropped into the chair on the opposite side of me.

Clearing my throat, I started to press on, the tension was no worse than a typical night at my family’s dinner table. “So here’s what I’ve put together. Our intern, R, claims working conditions were cruel and degrading, that management encouraged infighting amongst the interns, and she was frequently harassed. She’s seeking damages for suffering due to mental stress.”

“Last time I hire one of her scholarship pets.” It was muttered under his breath and the venom was enough to keep me from remarking.

“While from all the information present I don’t see an easy win for the plaintiff, I would still recommend we settle.” The air was heavy with my words and beside me, Darius grunted.

“Go on.” Mr. Swain’s voice was calm, as though he had absolute trust in what I would say next.

“If she does somehow win, this opens the floodgates. Every intern we’ve ever had will be lawyering up. Settle with a non-admission clause and an NDA. That should keep us clean.” Settling back, I awaited his assessment.

“And if she doesn’t settle?” He already knew.

“Destroy her, drag it out, expose every sordid detail of her life.” I found a perverse confidence in every word.

“That is truly brutal Ms. Du Couteau.” And he appreciated every bit of it.

“Isn’t that a bit much?” Darius's crossed arms and furrowed brow could not have made his thoughts more clear.

In my line of work, you quickly learned to lose moralistic notions about the actual people associated with a case, and sometimes even the facts of it. There was simply the case at hand, and ensuring that your client’s best interests were represented. It was a lesson Father had imparted on me early in my career and frequently thereafter. “She’s threatening this company. Unless you’d like us all to take the fall for whatever happened. Besides, something feels off about this whole thing.” It had been nagging at me since I’d finished the notes, something tugging at my mind that wouldn’t let go. The facts just didn’t add up for some reason. “It’s like her story doesn’t make sense in some places.”

“I was hoping you would come to that conclusion.” Without pretext or ceremony, Mr. Swain stood. “I have some things to look into.” Before I could ask what he hoped to gain from my conclusion, he began to walk away.

He left us there, staring at the door he exited through, silent and thoroughly confused. Sipping the last of my coffee, I turned to the large, somewhat sullen man beside me. “Is he always this enigmatic?”

He was still glowering at the unfortunate door. “He has his moments. More importantly, he seems pretty impressed with you again.” His gaze turned my way. “Seems like you have a real opportunity here. Just don’t get in any elevators alone with Sam.”

“That’s the truth. You really think it’s going all that well?” The more cautious part of me fought back a small smile.

If Darius caught it, he blessedly said nothing. “He’s never going to be overtly effusive praising anyone but yes. What he’s said so far is about as good as gets.” Collecting his things he stood. “Let’s see what he throws at you next.”

It would’ve been ominous for anyone else, but trial by fire was the Du Couteau way. So instead of dwelling on it, I packed up and made my way back to my office. Sam welcomed my arrival with a glare and a slam of her door. As hard as it was for me to think favorably of her, there was no way she would’ve made it here if she hadn’t excelled. She too once must’ve faced the same arduous climb I was facing. The realization struck me like a slap to the face. I needed to keep it in perspective she was a force in her own right, not just an annoyance for me. Eventually, we would have it out between us, and then maybe we could put these tensions to bed. For now though, I’d focus on this winning streak and getting the next one.

Validation came swiftly though, the next day I arrived to find a note on my keyboard in Darius’s blocky scrawl. The case was dropped. Congrats. Come up and see me. With a triumphant smile, just in case Sam was lurking nearby, I followed his instructions and made my way to his door.

Darius’s office was much like the rest of the building, repurposed industrial, minimalist, and clean. To me, it seemed a perfect fit for his personality. He was unfussy, direct, and blunt in a refreshing way, the opposite of many of my family who surrounded themselves with ostentatious wealth to prove their value to themselves. At his welcoming wave, I entered and lowered myself into a comfortable, well-used chair in front of his desk.

“First Mr. Swain and now you, all these private meetings are going to start to look like an HR incident.” Darius and I were developing quite a casual relationship despite me being his subordinate, his personality made it too easy though.

He crossed his arms and grunted. “Getting cocky thinking you’re the only one.” He quirked an eyebrow and for a second I faltered thinking I was taking it too far. Then he grinned. “I have to give you a little bit of a hard time Kat, or all this success will make you insufferable.”

“Why it seems to have worked out fine for Samira.” I needled back.

A deep laugh engulfed him. “You’ve got me there. Anyway, whatever you put in those notes got Jericho fired up.” It was a strange sensation to hear the man’s first name. “He shut himself up in his office and made some calls, next thing you know, it was all over with. So since you’re quickly proving yourself to be a top asset, I’m supposed to give you ‘the invite’. Friday night at eight, Izumi’s karaoke night.”

“Uh, what now?” I stared at him dumbly.

“Twice a month, this sushi place over in the Settlement turns itself into a karaoke spot. Every so often we hit it up and our best performers are invited for a night of team building and networking, and drinking.” With a conspiratorial look, he leaned forward and spoke a touch more quietly. “He chooses who gets the invites and there was a lot of insistence on your inclusion.”

It was clear, if I wanted to continue to be in favor attendance was expected. “I’ll look forward to it then.”

With a startling quickness, he leaned forward. “Kat, I like you, so let me be blunt.” As if he wasn’t usually already. “This could drag you even deeper into the politics of this place. You’ve caught his attention, just be ready for what comes next.”

Likely I’d find myself with more than just my current rival. It didn’t matter though, all that mattered was that shiny lure of success, of proving myself on my own. “I’m sure I can handle whatever comes of it.”

He sat back and nodded, clearly satisfied he’d done his duty. “Alright then, we’ll be expecting you.” Dismissed, I got up and headed back towards the door. “Oh, right. Plus ones are encouraged, feel free to bring your fiancee and introduce him.”

I kept my expression neutral but mentally I was shrieking. “Sure.” The mere thought of dragging Garen to a Noxus company event made my stomach drop. Worse yet, I contemplated while traversing the halls, if he didn’t show. Would that look bad for me? Did Father tell Mr. Swain that I was engaged to someone from Demacia Corp? There was nothing to be done though but head back and bury myself in work until I could call him.

Time crawled until lunch as I half-heartedly churned through another contract in its earliest iteration, my mind nowhere near on it, my nerves completely tensed. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. Waiting until it was appropriate, I slipped away from my desk and headed for the small greenspace that existed beneath the shadow of the office. An older group of buildings had been razed to erect the Noxus Holdings HQ. While the interior design had a vintage approach with many repurposed pieces, it was in fact quite a modern structure. In corners of the property that no longer were needed for building space, small public parks had been established. Mr. Swain had been the one to oversee the new HQ, but who added the greenery remained a mystery. Each one held a plaque that simply read: “For Quiletta”.

Pulling out my phone, I settled on a bench underneath a stately willow, the shade offering relief from the early summer sun. Got a minute? Hesitantly I hit send, almost hoping he didn’t.

After a nervous minute of scrolling through ten different apps to try to take my mind off it, my phone buzzed. Sure hun, what’s up?

Before I could over-think, I started calling. It was only a few seconds before he picked up. “Hey, didn’t realize you needed to call.”

Great, he already didn’t sound happy. “Sorry love, I can let you go if you can’t talk.”

“No, it’s fine, just gonna hide here in the bathroom for now.” His forced cheer put me off and I desperately wanted to back out.

I soldiered on. “Are you busy Friday?”

“Never where you’re concerned. What’s up?” He’d perked up and seemed genuinely excited. And I was about to torpedo that entirely.

“There’s this work function, a karaoke get together…” I let it hang, seeming unable to go any further.

“Hmm. And I take it I’m invited?” The excitement vanished and his tone became skeptical.

“Yeah, it’s open for everyone’s SO’s.” I could almost hear the disapproval radiating from him. “There’s a lot of excitement to finally get to meet you.” A little embellishment couldn’t hurt at this point.

There was silence for a moment that seemed to go on forever. “You know I would run into hell for you. So, I guess this isn’t really all that different.” The laugh that accompanied his words didn’t really assure me at all that it was a joke. “What time should I come by to get you on Friday?”

“Seven-thirty.” I wanted to make sure we weren’t late. The sooner we got there and had some appropriate social time, the sooner Garen could escape my evil overlords. My building wasn’t actually all that far from the Settlement, a tangle of aging neighborhoods that had accepted immigrants from disparate cultures. Over time they had created a vibrant, diverse area that was now home to many restaurants and clubs that were top destinations for those in the city. I could’ve walked there to meet him, but getting caught in a sudden summer storm would lead to me arriving looking like a drowned cat.

“Alright babe, see you then, I gotta run. Love you Kat.” He seemed at least resigned to the idea.

My teeth dug into my lip. Now that he had agreed, I was overcome with dread for it. “Love you too.”

#jericho swain #katarina du couteau #swain x katarina #league of legends #league of legends fanfiction #fanfiction #jericho swain x katarina du couteau

[corvus--rex]

Another one that's not truly abandoned, working title Code Violet. Post s.8 Omegaverse, Klance slowburn. Omega Lance has been put on medical leave by the Garrison after the war because of his PTSD, which really just translates to secondary sexism as he's the only Omega among the Paladins. But then Keith goes missing on a Blades mission and Shiro calls the team back together.

~*~*~

He could deal with torture. At least, that’s what Keith told himself, having never been through it personally. But he did know how to deal with pain. A result of too many fights and questionable decisions in his life. But the sensation that overwhelmed his senses wasn’t pain. Or maybe it was. He didn’t know precisely. All he knew at that moment was that he could actively feel every last one of his nerves. He could feel the normal everyday functioning of his body mixed with a racing heartbeat and hyperventilating lungs. And yet he felt oddly detached from it. It felt as though his Alpha was protecting his mind like a mother wolf with her threatened pup. It was a very strange sensation. It felt like it went on forever. He felt something in his body shift. Something new and wholly unfamiliar. And then the pain actually hit. It crept in slowly, radiating from his core until the blooming white-hot flames licked their way through all of his nerve endings. He might have screamed, but he could never be sure. And when the searing pain left, it didn’t go quickly. It smoldered like the embers of a bonfire, burning low in that deceptive way that made it unclear as to whether or not the charred remains were still alight. But Keith could feel it, the low, steady flame that curled its way through his fingertips and all the way to his toes. Neither mind nor body relaxed until the cool touch of unconsciousness wrapped him in its embrace. He was blissfully unaware of being lifted, carried, and finally left in a dark cell while his captors waited for him to wake.

~~*~~ 5 Movements (7 Weeks) Later ~~*~~

Lance was startled awake by his comm screaming for his attention on his nightstand. No one he knew would call at half past five in the morning. All the official evaluations he’d undergone concluded that yes, he had PTSD just like the rest of Team Voltron and everyone else who’d fought in the war, but that with his weekly therapy sessions, he was handling it well enough for active duty. He had the unpleasant suspicion that it had something to do with him being the only Omega on Team Voltron. It didn’t seem to matter, however, as he was kept on medical leave.

When he was woken at the barest hint of dawn’s asscrack, squinting at his comm’s screen, he was shocked to see Shiro on the other end of the call. He fumbled for the button, accidentally dropping the device on himself. He figured he must have hit it somewhere in his sleep and adrenalin-fueled struggle when Shiro’s sleep-deprived face popped up in the holographic projection.

“Shiro? What? What is it? What’s going on?” Lance asked, voice low and rough, his mind not yet fully engaged.

“How soon can you get to the Garrison?” Shiro answered, sounding more awake than he looked.

“Um, probably about an hour. Why? What’s happening?”

The face of the Atlas’ captain darkened. “Keith’s gone missing. He was supposed to check in one movement ago, no one’s heard from him and they can’t trace his comm. It’s the second one he’s missed. Acxa and Kolivan are here requesting a team from the Coalition.”

Lance was awake. He knew Keith was away on another mission, he’d heard it directly from the man himself. He knew Keith would be out of reach for a while. He knew he wouldn’t know if Keith was ok until the mission was over. But he also knew that Keith was expected to keep to the check-in schedule, sending a scrambled message to a secure communications outpost that would then be sent on to Acxa, who was leading the Blades for the duration of the mission. It was almost overly complicated, but the mission was one that required careful stealth. It was the only thing Keith had been allowed to say about it before disappearing for what was supposed to be an extended 3 phoeb mission.

Acxa made sure to keep Team Voltron informed when it came to the check-in schedule, letting them know that Keith was ok. He had made the first three check-ins, even if the team was kept in the dark as to the messages’ contents. Acxa knew that there was a possibility that he could miss a check-in, but as long as his comm was active and could still be traced, she would know that the mission was still going. If he missed more than one check-in, it would raise alarms. Shiro said that he’d missed one a movement ago, which meant that he should have checked in again and hadn’t. If Shiro was calling to say that Keith had missed the check-in, and not that the mission was confirmed to have gone wrong, well, Lance didn’t quite know what it meant, but it wasn’t going to stop him from finding out.

“I’ll be right there,” he said, fully awake and already half-dressed.

Shiro nodded and cut the call.

Forty-five minutes later, Lance was walking into the conference room. He was surprised to see that he was the first one there save for Shiro. Lance was the only one of the team who wasn’t either assigned to the Atlas or stationed at the Garrison. Given his leave status, he’d decided to stay home with his family. The Garrison knew where to find him if they wanted to.

Taking a seat in the middle of the table, Lance leaned forward, resting his arms on the metal surface. “Who else is coming to this?” he asked.

“Adam, Pidge, and Hunk, Acxa is bringing Kolivan, and against my wishes, the MFEs will be here as well. They don’t have the security clearance our team has. They were involved on the front lines, but they’re not us. And they know even less about the Blades. But Iverson ordered it, so they’re coming.”

“Kinda surprised I still have the clearance,” he muttered, even though he knew Shiro would hear him anyway.

“And you know that if I had any real say, you’d be on the Atlas with us. You’re an outstanding pilot, the best at small team tactics I’ve ever seen, and I know no one can iron sight a target like you can. We wouldn’t have made it through several of our missions with Voltron if it hadn’t been for you. I don’t know if you realize it, but we never would have won the war without you.”

Lance looked up at that. Shiro was watching him, the Alpha’s expression one of pride and affection. “How’s that? We did it as a team. I wasn’t any more or less important than anyone else.”

Shiro shook his head. “Not at the end. You’re right about that. It was a team effort. I meant before that. Back when we rescued Slav. We only had one chance at getting him out, and we almost didn’t. If you hadn’t made that shot, we never would have succeeded that day, and – as much as I hate to admit it – Slav’s input and genius went a very long way in helping us win. Without you, none of it would have happened.”

Shock and realization flashed across the Omega’s face. “I – I never thought about it like that. I just did what I had to. We needed him, and I just did it. I never put it together like that.” He stumbled through his words, understanding the weight of what he’d done hitting him. He started at Shiro’s hand on his shoulder.

“I hadn’t either until recently. But that wasn’t a conversation to be had over a call. And I want you to know from me that I have been fighting Administration over your forced medical leave. It isn’t Iverson who’s sidelining you, it’s the heads of the Medical Division. They’re the only ones who can overrule him. Your evaluations confirm what we already know – that you're fit for active duty. The shrinks know it, we know it, even Iverson knows it. I don’t know why the med admins won’t clear you, but I have an idea, and their thought process is wrong. Being an Omega has nothing to do with your capability as a Garrison officer. We will get this sorted out.”

Lance stood up in a rush, nearly knocking the chair over, and crushed his pack Alpha in a tight hug. “Thanks, Shiro,” he mumbled into the Alpha’s shoulder.

“Anytime. I mean it. You’re more than just your service record. You are still, and always will be, part of the pack. Part of our pack. You do know that, right?”

Lance huffed a laugh into Shiro’s shoulder. “That’s about the only part I haven’t questioned. I – I miss him, Shiro. I just want to get him back safe.”

Shiro pulled back, holding onto Lance’s shoulders. “We will. We’re not giving up, not even if I have to go after him myself.”

The door gave a soft hiss as it slid open and closed. Lance and Shiro snapped to see who was there.

“We interrupt something?” Pidge asked, Hunk standing beside her.

“Lance! You made it! Oh, man, I am so happy to see you!” Hunk practically yelled, rushing in to wrap his old friend in a crushing hug.

“Yeah, I made it. I'm happy to see you too, Hunk,” Lance said far more softly and returning the enthusiastic hug.

~*~*~*~

Links to the rest of the series:

1 | 2 | 3* | 4 | 5* | 6* | 7 | 8 | 9* | 10 | 11 | 12* | 13 | 14 | 15* | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19*

#my writing #abandoned wips #Klance #vld #voltron #abo #omegaverse #omega lance mcclain #keith x lance #keith kogane #lance mcclain

[lia-jones]

Growing Together - Chapter Twenty- Three - Goodbye is a Silent Word (Part Two)

I woke up the following morning, my sleeping son curled against me. The book I had been reading to him was neatly placed on the nightstand, and a warm comforter covered me. My heart grew warm with the thought that my husband had come to check up on us, as he would normally do before all of this had happened.

The truth was, I barely saw Victor ever since the piano incident. He had locked himself inside the study, writing the eulogy, and didn’t even bother answering me when I had come to ask if he was hungry. It was evident that he wanted to be left alone, so, as a good doting wife, I complied. Even if it hurt me. Even if my heart wrung itself with agony.

Owen stirred by my side, probably sensing that I was awake. His big brown eyes stared at me expectantly, as if to gauge my mood. It had been a weird couple of days, so it was no surprise that the boy felt somewhat unstable. I gave him my best reassuring smile.

“Good morning, sleepy bug.” I playfully poked his nose. “Did you sleep well?”

“You slept here?” He frowned. "Where's Dad?”

I had no idea where he was or how he was. I also had no idea of what to say, so the only solution I had was to lie.

“You know him, he's probably busy with the funeral.”

The boy stared at me in a very familiar way, his gaze very similar to the one his father used to give me when he felt something was off. After a moment, he seemed to shrug it off, smiling at me instead.

“I’m hungry. Can we go have breakfast?”

“Sure can!” I got up and offered my back for him to climb, which he happily did. “Come on, my hungry caterpillar. Let’s get you showered and fed so you may become a butterfly.”

“Did you know that monarch caterpillars eat about twenty milkweed leaves in one day?”

“That’s probably why they are so chubby and cute! Just like my little bug!”

“I’m not chubby!” He complained, giggling. “Just cute.”

The house smelled like flowers and candle wax, and had a more solemn feel to it. It was easy to assume Mina’s body had returned from the morgue and was already in the house. I walked with Owen to the kitchen, hearing the clinking of silverware and glasses.

“There you are, good morning!” Terry greeted. “Sit and eat, Susan just made some eggs. Do you like eggs, Owen?”

“Yes, I’d like some, please.” He sat down, folding his hands in his lap, waiting to be served.

As soon as I saw that he was happily eating, I turned to Terry.

“Where’s Victor?” I whispered.

“In the living room.” She answered with a nod. “Spent all night in there. I told him to go to bed, but he didn’t want to leave her alone.”

“Will you-”

“I’ll take care of Owen. Go see if you can convince him to have some breakfast.”

I entered the living room like it was a church, and for a moment I thought I heard an echo of my footsteps. Victor was sitting in the chair next to the coffin, lost in thought. His eyes showed the familiar traces of a night spent awake.

I stood in place for a moment, not knowing what to do, when the realization hit me. For the first time in years, I was afraid to get closer to him. It was like we had gone back to the days when he was simply a CEO, and I an intern, and all the steps we had made to get to where we were before had magically vanished. I couldn’t help but feel like I didn’t know him anymore and he didn’t want me anymore.

My mind scolded my heart for having such thoughts. I was being selfish, getting my feelings in the way of what I should do as a wife. I had married that man, all of him, the good and the bad. Would I be the kind of person who cowers when things get rough? Hell no.

I sat beside him, expecting to be sent away, but I wouldn’t let that deter me. Wanting me there or not, my husband would know I would always be there for him. I couldn’t promise to be perfect, but I did vow to be loyal.

“Did you spend the night in here?” I tried.

He blinked, as if he was emerging from his thoughts, and by his expression, they were very painful ones.

“I did.” He paused for a moment. “Did… you and Owen sleep well?”

Maybe he was overly emotional, or simply exhausted, but I could feel him letting his guard down for a second. He reminded me of a wounded animal somehow, too afraid to ask for help, suspicious of the world that hurt him in the first place. I would have to tread lightly.

“Yes.” I nodded. “If you want to, I can be with her for a moment, while you get something to eat. You skipped dinner.”

I grimaced internally as I saw his poker face return. I had spoken too much, called out on his fragility, and God forbid Victor would admit he wasn’t doing well in any way.

“No need.” He dismissed me. “I’m fine.”

“At least let me-” I motioned to take Victor’s hand, words failing me as I saw him pull his hand away.

I knew the cold version of Victor, the one with all the walls, feelings kept inside hidden, away from the world. But the walls he had built had cracks, and the light seeping through those cracks was exactly what made me fall in love with him. It showed me that, even though he did his best to conceal his loving and sensitive spark, it was there and it was very bright. It was just a defense mechanism, because when Victor felt, he felt very strongly and very deeply. I had never seen him like this, the walls so thick no light would show. And it was starting to become clear he had no intention of letting me in.

“Victor...” I felt my eyes sting.

“I can’t.” His voice was merely a whisper.

It seemed to be a thing of ours now, letting unspoken words fall heavy on us. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to, anyway. I walked out of the living room, my mind doing its best to numb itself. It felt too painful to think or to feel.

I became fully alert when I heard Terry speak from the kitchen.

“I beg of you, now is not the time.”

"Do I need to remind you this place used to belong to me? That I let you live here for free? Is that how you thank me?” I heard him chastise his sister.

God, no. It had been almost a year since I had last seen him.

I opened the door slowly, hoping I had heard wrong. But there he was, in his expensive fur coat, the same expression of someone who doesn’t have time to bother with anything but himself. Terry was pale as a ghost, leaning against the wall, while my son sat at the table, seemingly confused with the interaction.

"Since my son won’t bother to call his own father, I thought I would see him here. He has always been fond of the housekeeper, for some reason.”

“What do you want, Gregory?” I spoke, protectively resting my hand on Owen’s shoulder.

“Finally, someone who can be of use.” He turned to me with a condescending look, like I was one of his servants. “Where 's my son?”

Oh, no, you won’t.

“What do you want with Victor?” I challenged. “I’m sure it isn’t to apologize for the way you behaved at our wedding.”

“Children should honor their parents, not the opposite.” He looked at my side, to my son, with an amused smile. “Speaking of which, I see you brought your stray.”

I was suddenly blinded by rage, ready to go for his throat if he dared to speak another word. How dared he insult my son? I wasn’t a violent person, but I suddenly became thirsty for blood, eager to put that bitch of a sperm donor in his place. I was stopped by Victor’s icy voice, coming from behind me.

“Leave.”

Victor didn’t look angry. In fact, he looked calm and composed, and if someone saw this scene from afar, they would probably mistake it for an amicable interaction. However, everyone in the room could feel Victor’s menacing aura, like he was a dangerous beast ready to attack, only waiting for the right moment. I instinctively pulled Owen behind me, expecting bloodshed.

“I will not be told what-”

“I said. Leave.” Victor’s voice was contained, but menacing. “You will not disrespect my family.”

He was laser-focused, in full control of his body, his eyes full of danger yet his expression cold and detached. Every muscle, every breath, every thought was now aimed at his father, and it was clear he wouldn’t hesitate to shred him to pieces if he felt the need. I didn’t know this Victor at all, and to be honest, I didn’t want to see him again. I knew I couldn’t possibly imagine the things he was capable of.

Gregory apparently could, or at least recognized the real danger of the situation, as he cleared his throat and gave a discreet step back.

“Probably for the best. I’ll leave you to mourn the housekeeper.”

Josh had told me all that had happened between Gregory and Victor right before our wedding, and how close the old man was to get his nose broken by his son, so it was surprising to see that he was still trying to provoke him. I braced myself for a stormy reaction from Victor. None came. Victor kept his steely eyes and cold demeanor, not moving one inch.

“I’m sure you can see yourself out.”

Terry and I watched Victor in awe, surprised the old man would live to see another day. The hot tension in the kitchen lingered, as Victor kept his eyes focused on his father, watching him slowly walk away.

“Who was that man?” Owen peeked from behind me.

Victor turned to his son, the tension from the previous interaction not fully gone.

“You are not to listen to a single word that bastard says, do you understand me?” His authoritative, icy tone made Owen flinch.

“Yes, Sir.”

I wasn’t sure if Victor had heard Owen’s answer, as he returned to the living room without another word.

The funeral was simple and tasteful, with very few people, including me and Victor. It was odd, knowing Mina, that the funeral would have such low attendance. She was such a loving and caring woman, it would be expected that the world would honor her existence. As it sometimes happens with the purest things in life, Mina’s death seemed to be ignored.

However, all present paid respects to the deceased, either by saying a few words or reading a passage of some book they liked. Until it was Victor’s turn.

He got up quietly, steadily, like he would when he was in a business meeting. But I could see the twitch of his fingers, the sad look in his eyes. It was clear that, although seemingly composed, Victor had a raging war inside him. He took a piece of paper from his suit jacket’s pocket and started reading.

“Whillemina Jordan was born on October 11th, 1949, in Loveland. Her dream was to become an actress, but when her father fell ill with a mysterious bone disease, she had to work to feed the family, so her mother could take care of her siblings. During her life...”

Victor paused for a moment, staring at the paper. He folded it back in, putting it in his pocket. For some reason, he had decided to speak from the heart.

“Mina was a loving and caring woman. She was forgiving, never entertaining a single negative feeling in her heart. But most of all, she was wise. She had the kind of wisdom that cannot be attained through education, but only through the course of a painful life. And yet, she had nothing but love and joy to give. Mina.” Victor paused again, his voice faltering almost inaudibly. “You will be missed.”

I could see it perfectly. In that small pause existed the silent goodbye that Victor wasn’t yet able to say. It entailed sweet childhood memories and caring moments, the ones only shared between a mother and her child. It entailed all of the moments that were yet to come, when Victor would need a mother figure, and miss her. It also entailed the hug that Victor wanted to give her, the words he meant to say to her, the moments that never came to be. I could feel Victor’s sorrow deep in my heart, so I moved to the piano, letting it spill all over the piano keys.

It dawned on me later that, even not being able to make a family of her own, she did have a family: except for Victor, there wasn’t a dry face in that funeral. Mina did have loved ones, we were right there, crying for her. And she had a son, who gave up on control momentarily to honor her, who carried her casket and stayed behind until the very end, when most people had left the cemetery.

We drove straight home, in silence, Owen drifting off in the back. The reality of our situation came rushing back as we got closer to Loveland. The lawsuit, our fight, all of that filled the silence between us, and it became impossible to breathe. We walked into the apartment without a word, and i took our son straight to his bedroom to put him in bed.

“Isn’t Dad going to kiss me goodnight?” There was a deep sadness in the boy’s voice.

I looked at the door behind me, waiting for Victor to come and lean on the doorframe, like he did every night. The doorframe remained painfully lonely.

“Dad is probably tired, he must have gone to bed already.” I downplayed it with a forced smile. “You’ll talk to him in the morning.��

“Dad would never go to bed without kissing me goodnight.” Owen spat at me. “You won’t tell me, but I know he’s mad at me. Whatever I did, it wasn’t on purpose!”

I held my son’s face between my hands, staring deeply at the desperation in his eyes.

“Listen to me, Bug.” I spoke to his pain, wanting to send it away. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Your father is sad, and he doesn’t know how to express it. It’s not your fault.”

Big brown eyes stared at me, and I felt him relax.

“Go to bed, get some sleep.” I pecked his forehead. “You have school tomorrow.”

“Ok.” He buried himself in the comforter. “Goodnight Mom.”

“Goodnight, my little bug.”

I closed the door to Owen’s room slowly, trying to placate myself. This had gone too far. I could accept that Victor was hurting, I could accept that he was angry at me and I probably deserved the punishment he was giving me, I could even accept that he kept me at bay. But hurting my son? I would not accept that.

I went to the bedroom, only to find it empty. When I reached the main hallway, I saw the light in the study was on. He was probably in there, drinking. Disregarding our son. Disregarding me. It was getting harder and harder for me to keep calm. I opened the study door unceremoniously. As I expected, he had taken his tie and suit jacket off and was helping himself with some whiskey.

“You’re drinking?” I gave him an accusatory look. “Your son is in bed, worrying about why his father didn’t even bother to kiss him goodnight, and you are here drinking?”

“Not now, Andrea.” He sighed in annoyance. And then I saw the exhaustion in his eyes.

Victor was shutting me out, putting on a brave face, but this was the man that carried his mother’s casket. This was the man that lost the one person that held him through it all his whole life and was also at risk of losing his son. This was the man whose father only wanted to hurt, and not to comfort. And although I was right there, he probably couldn’t help but feel lonely. I took a deep breath to calm myself down.

“Look, I know this is a very hard day for you, and I understand, I really do.” I looked at him earnestly, waiting for him to meet my gaze. “I know who you lost. But our son needs you.”

Victor turned away, deciding to ignore me.

“Look, I know we had a fight and I know you are angry at me. But we can sort this out. I’m right here, talk to me.”

“Are you?” He asked with a bitter voice. “Are you really? Because two days ago you weren’t even sure you wanted to keep our son. Are you sure you want to keep us?”

“Oh no, you don’t get to make accusations like that!” I raised my voice, the rage coming full force now. “I am not the one running away to lick my wounds, ostracizing my child in the process! You do not get to tell me I’m abandoning my family!”

“Right.” He gave me a bitter chuckle.

“Look, I know you haven’t had it easy these last two days, but guess what? Neither have I! I let you take it out on me, endured all the times you gave me the cold shoulder, smiled and reassured our son when you ignored him, I was there for my family!” The words poured out of me, raw and sharp, and I found I couldn’t stop them. “I understand you are hurting, and I am sorry! I’m sorry your mother left you, I am sorry that your father is a narcissistic prick, and I am sorry that the woman that practically raised you died. Hell, I’m even sorry that I didn’t meet your impossible standards, but that does not give you the right to ignore our son and break his heart! You are acting just like your father!”

I covered my mouth with a gasp, appalled with the words that had just come out of my mouth. Of all the blows, this one was the cheapest. And also the deadliest. I watched Victor freeze in place, his eyes on the ground, fully aware that the moment he would look up, I would see the rage in them.

“Leave.” His tone was monotonous, yet sharp as a knife.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Let’s just-”

“I said LEAVE!” He roared. “NOW!

I jumped when I heard the loud crash right beside me, unable to register what it was. Until I saw the glass in shards on the floor, the wall behind me dripping with whiskey. His outburst triggered something in me, and I bolted out of the study. I leaned against the bedroom wing’s wall, trying hard to steady my shaking body and catch a breath, when I saw Owen next to me.

“What happened?” He looked at me with tears in his eyes. I immediately forgot my own fright and went straight to comforting mode.

“It’s ok, my sleepy bug, everything is alright.” I said, after quickly wiping my tears. “Go to bed, it’s late.”

“Did he hurt you?” He sobbed.

“No, he wouldn’t do that.” I reassured the boy. “He’s just upset, that’s all.”

“Can you sleep with me tonight? I’m scared.” He begged.

“Just for tonight, agreed? Ok, off to bed we go, tomorrow you have to be up bright and early.”

As Owen climbed into bed, I shut myself in his bathroom for a moment. All of this was surreal. This wasn’t Victor. Victor would never do that, he would never act like that, he would never be violent, or turn his back on the people he loved or shatter a glass against a wall, no matter how dire things were… Would he?

I quickly took a hand towel from a drawer and stuffed it in my mouth, trying to conceal the wrenching sobs I could no longer keep in, as I considered a second option. Maybe Victor hadn’t changed, the circumstances did. Maybe he found it easy to turn his back on me because our fight the day before had been the last blow in our relationship. My husband could be that unforgiving if pushed hard enough. I let myself slide to the ground, unable to keep myself up, the anguish taking full force. I had lost him. I was losing it all. Owen and Victor. My whole life. All the reasons to be happy.

I left the bathroom a while later, empty of tears. Owen had fallen asleep in the meantime, but I laid next to him anyway. I wanted to make the best of these moments, even if they were bittersweet, because I would probably no longer have them. I hugged my sleeping boy tight, burying my nose in his curls, treasuring him the best I could.

When people pass away, we feel sad that we didn’t get to say goodbye, like goodbye is something that needs to be heard to be acknowledged. That’s a lie. Goodbyes can be a mere hesitation. Goodbyes can be a glass shattered against a wall. And even though they aren’t voiced, even when they are silent, they can still hold an ocean of words in them, and mean the end of a marriage.

#victor mldd #angsty victor #mlqc victor #love and producer fanfic #li zeyan #Growing Pains - Series #growingtogether #victor x oc